Of Cousins and Kahs-wans
by M C Pehrson
Summary: Story #39 Spock's son is tense when his father returns from a six month absence, and the arrival of a young cousin doesn't help matters. Will Simon's desire to impress Spock turn deadly?
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1**

Simon had been to San Francisco Spaceport plenty of times before, and had always found it exciting to be around all the alien travelers. But today was different. Today he had come here to meet his father, and he wasn't sure how he felt about that. A lot had happened in the six months since Spock went away.

Simon stayed close at his mother's side as she hurried toward the terminal where Father would arrive. Her body had changed a lot since the twins were born. He liked her better this way, with her big stomach gone, so that when he hugged her, he wasn't hugging the babies, too. Glancing up, he noticed how tense her face looked as she searched the crowded concourse ahead of them. Now their hands were touching, and he could feel her tension seeping through his mental barriers. It made him even more nervous.

Before Father left, he had warned Simon to be on his best behavior and help around the house. This morning Mom had said almost the same thing—that he needed to be extra good because his father was still "recuperating". She had made it sound like he was sick, but Simon knew that wasn't the problem. He had heard rumors about how Spock had changed—"mutated" was the word they used. It had been on all the news broadcasts. Though Mom hadn't let Simon watch the news, his schoolmates had told him stories about a lizard-creature with a long sticky tongue that caught bugs. When he asked his mother about it, she said it wasn't like that at all. Father had never eaten bugs, and there was nothing to worry about because he looked completely normal again. But Simon knew for a fact that _she_ was worried.

His heart pounded as they neared the proper terminal. Suddenly, Mom slowed. A throng of people blocked the way. Some of them held the small newscorders he had seen reporters use. A pudgy human male turned and looked straight at the two of them. The man's hand came up and pointed.

"Look!" he called out. "Over there—that's his wife and kid. Hey, Yasha!"

Every face in the crowd turned.

 _Yasha?_ Simon blinked in confusion.

The reporters stampeded his way, newscorders humming.

Simon heard the same man referring to him as "Captain Spock's son, another Jascha Heifetz". Now he understood and went hot with embarrassment. He did not consider himself equal with the great 20th century violinist. Obviously they were making fun of him.

"Leave my son alone!" Lauren demanded, but they thrust the newscorders even closer and began shouting questions.

Jerking free of his mother's grip, Simon turned and ran. He expected his mother to follow him. He was deep into the tourist shops, and thoroughly lost, when he realized that he was alone. Out of breath, he stopped near the entrance of an Andorian restaurant called "The Ice House".

Why had he run off? Just because they were calling him Jascha Heifetz? No. That had only been an excuse to get away from there, to get out of meeting his father because he was afraid of what he might find. Now, no matter what, he was going to be in trouble.

oooo

Toting a single piece of luggage, Spock left the terminal and was immediately besieged by a mob of reporters. Their queries so overlapped that a human could not have sorted them out. Spock acted as if he could not understand, either. Assuming an apologetic air, he announced that although he appreciated their interest, he simply hadn't time to give them the attention that their questions merited. He could soon issue a comprehensive statement through Starfleet.

There were groans of disappointment and more questions. Ignoring them, Spock cut a path through their midst and broke into the main concourse. He paused to scan the busy area for some sign of his wife. Lauren was here; he could sense her physical nearness along with an aura of distress that puzzled him.

Led by their bond, he found her off in the distance craning her neck, looking in all directions. For a moment he just stood watching her, taking pleasure in knowing that this time he was truly home, in body as well as mind.

At last he approached her and said, "Have you lost something?"

At the sound of his voice Lauren whirled. Her eyes met his, then quickly swept over his entirely normal face. She broke into a tremulous smile.

Spock was very much aware of some persistent reporters filming them from a distance, of how badly his human wife wanted to embrace him, and of the effort it cost her to hold back. Setting down his valise, he formally he offered his paired forefingers—the nails of which were still abnormally thick—and she returned the spousal touch with all the dignity of a Vulcan.

Her blue eyes went moist as she said, "Welcome home. And yes, I've lost something—our son."

As she explained the circumstances, Spock raised an eyebrow and considered. "He is most likely still within the complex. Have you reported him missing?"

"I was just about to."

After contacting the proper authorities, Spock thought back to his own boyhood, and what he had found most interesting about spaceports. Taking up his valise, he said, "I have an idea..."

oooo

Simon was seven years old now. On Vulcan he would be preparing for his manhood trial, yet here he was, his nose pressed to one of the vast windows of the observation room, his eyes so full of tears that he had barely seen the starliner's shuttle descend through the atmosphere and touch down.

By now, his father probably knew that he had run off and left Mom after promising to be good. How could he have been so childish, so…so _illogical?_

Suddenly he heard his name and description repeating over the loudspeaker for everyone to hear. "Please be on the lookout; we have a missing boy named Simon…" Then a familiar voice spoke nearby, overlaying the announcement. "There he is—thank God! Those reporters really must have upset him."

Heart pounding, Simon wiped his eyes and turned to meet his parents. Lauren bent down and put her arms around him, leaving Simon free to gaze up into his father's face. It looked exactly the way he remembered.

Feeling very foolish, he mumbled, "Hello, Father."

"Simon," Spock said. That was all.

oooo

Things were really different. After such a long separation, Simon felt strange around his father. He kept sneaking peeks at those weird thick fingernails that Mom said would eventually grow out normal. Even so, he still wanted Spock all to himself, but that was impossible with the babies around. Seeing Teresa and James in his father's arms made Simon feel very jealous. All day he worked hard at getting Spock's attention, but some baby always seemed to start crying or do something cute. Discouraged, he picked at his dinner and went off to bed without even saying goodnight. He was almost asleep when someone knocked on his door.

Father came in.

"G'night," Simon mumbled sullenly.

Father walked over, turned on a lamp, and sat facing him on the bed. Simon noticed a gift-wrapped box in his hands, and for a moment even forgot about those fingernails.

"As I recall," Father said, "I owe you a birthday present."

He put it on the covers over Simon's legs. The box felt heavy.

Simon stared at the belated present with mixed feelings. "I…I thought you'd forgotten."

"No, I did not forget. I promised you something from Space—something special. I intended to give it to you at your bedtime."

For some reason Simon did not quite believe him. He didn't think Spock had wasted any of his important time looking for a present. He had a feeling that he had just now remembered and gone and found something in the house to give him.

Simon had never before felt like his father was lying, and it bothered him. He didn't want to open the present. But sitting up, he opened it anyway. The wrapping came off easily. What he found underneath seemed to confirm his suspicions. The black velvet case looked identical to one he had once spotted high in the closet of Spock's study. Ever since then, he had wondered what secret it contained. At least now he would find out.

Aware of his father watching him, he opened the spring-hinged cover. Light from the bedside lamp glinted dully on the stone that was inside. It looked like something dug from the backyard. Bitterly disappointed, he said, "A rock."

"Pick it up," Spock told him.

Pick it up? Why? So Father could make up some stupid story about how rare and special it was? With a surge of anger, Simon shoved the whole thing off his bed. The stone rolled out of the box and came to a stop by his father's shoes. Simon's heart raced as he stared at it. Now he would be punished for sure. Though he told himself that he didn't care, he felt sick with worry until Father rose without saying a word, and left the room. Half an hour passed before Simon turned out his light. What a miserable day! Nothing had gone right. Why had Spock given him a stupid rock, anyway? Looking down, he could see the knobby thing on the floor, in a shaft of moonlight. Simon hated the sight of it. Hanging over the side of the bed, he tried to push it away. His fingers brushed the rough surface of the stone. It felt warm.

Curious, he got out of bed and picked up the rock for the first time. It _was_ warm—almost as if it had been lying in the sun. Warm and—

A sudden vibration startled him. He dropped the stone and it narrowly missed his toe. Squatting down, Simon studied the mysterious rock for a couple of minutes. Then very carefully he retrieved it and cupped the stone in his hands. It grew warmer and warmer and began to tremble. As Simon stared, its pocked surface took on a strange purple glow. Then, to his delight, the rock started to hum softly.

Clutching the gift, Simon jumped up and ran into the hallway. From the head of the stairs he could see that the living room was dark. Turning, he found the door to his father's study ajar. The lights were out, but he heard voices, so he wandered inside. The sounds came from his parents', bedroom, behind the closed door that connected it to the study. Very quietly, Simon put the stone on the floor. The humming stopped. The purple glow faded and went out. Pressing his ear to the bedroom door, he listened.

Mom was talking about something being unfair; that she was doing the work she loved, but that Father's position at Starfleet Academy didn't make full use of his scientific training. That she realized now how wrong she had been.

Father said that he had accepted the Academy position for the best of reasons; that the time it allowed him with his family made it worthwhile. Then he said, "Lauren, it was due to the merit of the Donari mission, and T'Beth's involvement, that I chose to participate—not any lack of personal fulfillment."

Simon felt a fresh twinge of anger when his mother said, "Alright, but it's still not fair to you. Even with your work at the Academy, there are going to be chances for you to get involved in other projects. I can handle a few separations, as long as I know you're content. Honestly."

Simon was pleased to hear his father say that maybe she could handle the separations, but what about the children? He told her that he didn't want a "repeat of T'Beth", and then Simon heard his own name mentioned. "I already see problems arising with Simon. Either he is deeply resentful of my absence, or the boy has grown spoiled."

 _Spoiled!_

Simon snatched up the stone and nearly hurled it. Only the sight of his father's desk stopped him. Somewhere in this house—maybe even in this very room—Solkar's sturpa might be hidden. On Vulcan, Father had said that he would never whip him…but that was before he thought Simon was "spoiled".

Clenching his jaw, he stalked back to his bedroom, shoved the stone into its box, and pushed it under his bed.

oooo

Starfleet Academy was on summer break, and Spock had not yet been cleared for active duty as its commandant. After a second day of physical and psychological testing, he was at home, perusing his Padd on the sunny back porch while the twins lay at his feet in a playpen. His eyes returned to them again and again. He could not seem to get his fill of watching their antics. After last night's conversation with Lauren, she seemed to understand this new sense he had—however illogical—of time slipping away. Had she not sometimes said that Simon was growing up too quickly? While it was true that Spock missed starship duty, Space would be there waiting for his return. The same could not be said for these children.

He heard footsteps in the house and glanced over his shoulder as the door opened. Simon stepped out on the screened porch in his baseball uniform. The word "Giants" was emblazoned across the jersey in orange and black lettering. His eyes looked very intense in the shadow of his ball cap, and his hands toyed restlessly with a player's glove.

"Ready for your game?" Spock asked him.

Rather than answer, Simon posed a question of his own. "Where did that rock come from?"

"It is a Helexian Moodstone," Spock replied. "Its elements draw on the energy in your body. The sound it makes varies according to your frame of mind."

Simon's dark, level eyebrows drew together in a frown. "I meant where did you get it? On Ildarani?"

"No," Spock said, "I did not acquire the stone during my travels. My father did, long ago, and brought it home to me when I was not much younger than you. It was so unusual for Sarek to give me a plaything, that I treasured it."

He saw a confusion of emotions fill his son's eyes, saw the eyes lower.

"Oh," Simon said at last, unsmiling. Then, a very restrained "Thank you."

As Simon turned to leave, Spock told him, "I can join you at the baseball field after your mother gets back. It has been a long time since I saw you play."

Simon stiffened. "That's alright…you don't have to. Joey's dad is picking me up; I'm sure he'll bring me home, too."

Spock held in his pain as he nodded. After Simon left, he thought about the Moodstone and the part of the story he had not told his son. Yes, he had treasured it…for a brief time. But only days after receiving the gift, he had overheard an argument between his parents. Sarek had been displeased to find Spock "playing childish games" with the stone. Sarek had intended it to be an educational tool, a way for his halfling son to gauge emotional responses and better learn to control them. Spock's face had gone white at the sound of fury in his mother's voice. _"He's a child, Sarek! Only a child!_

After that, all the pleasure had drained out of the rock. Spock put it away and seldom touched it again.

oooo

Simon's Little League team lost. All through the game he had kept glancing into the bleachers, looking to see if his father had come, after all. He had only said that about Joey's dad because he was angry, because he thought Spock didn't really care anything about him or the game; that he would rather be with the twins or at the starbase or off working on some project in his study.

He arrived home in a black mood. Dirt-streaked and sweaty, he walked into the house and found a strange boy sitting on the living room sofa, petting the family cat.

The boy stood and they stared at one another. He was about the same height as Simon, but built a little heavier. A lock of sandy hair hung low on his forehead. Reaching up, the boy pushed it out of his blue-gray eyes and shifted uneasily.

Something about him looked familiar.

"Who are _you?"_ Simon asked in a less-than-friendly tone.

Spock and Lauren came out of the kitchen. Father was holding little James as he walked over to the stranger and rested his free hand on his shoulder. "Simon," he said, "this is our cousin, Gary Breskin."

Simon stared harder at the boy and recalled a vague memory from when he was three. They had been over at Aunt Doris' house in the canyon, and there was this little kid visiting her with his parents. He didn't recall saying much to Gary, or even playing with him. He remembered thinking how weird it was that this runny-nosed human kid was his father's cousin.

What was Gary doing here? Simon didn't like his father touching the boy.

Mom smiled sadly. "Gary was staying with Aunt Doris, but she's gone into the hospital."

Simon felt a stab of apprehension. He liked his great-aunt a lot. "Is she sick?"

"Yes," Father answered. "She called shortly after you left this afternoon. Since Gary's parents are off-world, he will be staying here for a few days."

Mom said, "Think of all the fun you two can have together."

That, Simon doubted. Wasn't there someone else who could take the kid? Simon didn't want a stranger tagging along, bothering him. He didn't want Gary poking around in his belongings. Was this Father's way of punishing him for being "spoiled"? Narrowing his eyes at his cousin, he asked, "Will he have to stay in my room?"

Lauren and Spock looked at one another. Father moved an eyebrow in the way that meant he was displeased.

"No," Mom said, much to Simon's relief. "Gary can sleep in T'Beth's old room. Now go clean up so we can eat dinner."

Simon stalked past Gary and ran upstairs. When he reached the bathroom, he shut the door so hard that it banged.

oooo

All the next morning Simon practiced his violin alone in his room. It was almost noon when Mom opened his door and brought in Gary.

Simon lowered the violin from his chin.

"It would be nice," Mom said, "if you spend a little time now with your cousin."

Simon objected, "But I'm working on a composition."

"Tell Gary about it," she suggested. As if Gary would care anything about his music.

"No," Simon argued. "I can't concentrate with him in here."

His mother gave him a stern look. "Then find something else to do with him."

She went out and shut the door behind her.

Simon and Gary stared at one another. Then ignoring his cousin, Simon took up his violin and continued playing.

"I like the twins," Gary said suddenly.

He _would_. Simon acted as if he hadn't even heard.

"I wish I had a little brother and sister," Gary persisted.

Simon played on.

After a while Gary pulled a bunch of little starships and fighters out of his pockets and began to make a spaceport on the floor. Soon he was zooming all around the room, pretend-flying a Bird-of-Prey.

Annoyed, Simon put down his violin. "What are you doing with that? It's Klingon. You're not a dirty Klingon, are you?"

"You don't have to be Klingon," Gary said, "to fly a Bird-of-Prey. The crew of the Enterprise did, and that includes your father." He brought the toy on a strafing run so low that the ship's metal nearly scraped Simon's violin.

"Hey!" Simon jerked the instrument out of reach. "Watch out! And you don't know anything about my father!"

Gary stopped playing and glowered at the violin cradled protectively in Simon's arms. "What's the matter, sissy—are you afraid I'll scratch it?"

Seething, Simon shut the violin away in its case. Gary glared at him, then coolly got down on the floor and resumed his game. Simon watched him bring in a fighter for a ground landing beside the bed. Suddenly his cousin reached underneath the bed and pulled out a black velvet box.

Simon lunged for it. "Give me that!"

Gary clutched it to his chest and rolled out of reach. Outraged, Simon jumped on top of the boy and easily wrestled away the box.

Gary got to his feet and scowled at him. "You're selfish—do you know that?"

"I am not!" Simon denied. "This isn't your house! You should ask for permission before you touch things!"

Pain flickered in Gary's eyes, and for an instant Simon almost felt sorry.

Then Gary said, "You are so, selfish! And my Grandpa Les says your father was selfish, too. He tells stories about when they were boys together."

Simon's hands gripped the box tightly. "What stories? You're lying. My father grew up on Vulcan."

"Shows how much _you_ know," Gary muttered. He turned back to his toys.

Gary's words continued to rankle as Simon stood watching. _I am not selfish,_ he thought to himself, _and Father never was, either. Cousin Les is a liar and Gary knows it. That's why he dropped the subject._

Sitting down on the bed, he opened the velvet box. As he fingered the stone, it began to glow. Then it started to hum loudly.

Gary came over, bug-eyed. "Wow! What's that?"

"Don't touch it," Simon said quickly. He looked at his cousin with scorn. "You're the one who doesn't know anything. It's a…a Helexian Firestone. It's full of photon energy. If anyone handles it but me, it'll explode."

He almost smiled at the look of awe on Gary's face. Just for fun, he waved the glowing rock under his cousin's nose. Gary gasped and jumped back. Simon chased the frightened boy into a corner and tapped the stone on his shoulder.

"Ka-pow! You're dead!" he said, and started to laugh.

When Gary saw that he had been tricked, his eyes flamed. "Liar!"

"Takes one to know one," Simon retorted with the age-old schoolyard taunt.

With lightning speed, Gary's hand whipped out and snatched the rock from Simon's grip. Then he was out the door, the stone singing loudly.

Simon ran downstairs after him and chased his cousin all the way into the backyard. Gary tripped on a paving stone and tumbled into the grass. Simon leaped on top of him and as he jerked the pilfered rock out of Gary's hand, he experienced an onslaught of angry thoughts that were not all his own. The pitch of the rock abruptly deepened. Simon raised it over his cousin's head and Gary's eyes widened.

"Simon!" a voice snapped.

Simon froze at the sound. His mother's hand closed over the stone and yanked it away. She grabbed him by the arm and pulled him to his feet. Then she bent over Gary.

"Honey, are you alright?" she asked anxiously.

Frowning, Gary got up and brushed himself off. "I think so. He was going to hit me with that!"

The stone hummed in Lauren's grip. Lifting Simon's chin, she forced him to meet her eyes. "What on Earth has gotten into you, young man? Don't _ever_ threaten anyone with a rock. Do you hear me? You could have seriously hurt your cousin."

Simon's face burned. "But he took it!"

"Well, now _I'm_ taking it," she declared, "and it's going back to your father until you can show us that you know how to get along with other children."

Simon cast Gary a venomous glance.

His mother sighed and her voice gentled a little. "Come inside, both of you, and wash up. I'm making lunch."

Soon they were sitting on opposite sides of the kitchen table, wolfing down sandwiches and milk. Simon stretched out his leg under the table and kicked at Gary's foot. Gary reached hard, trying to retaliate, and almost fell off his chair. Simon laughed. Suddenly they were both laughing.

oooo

Spock watched, unnoticed, at the kitchen door as the two boys finished their meal. He was glad to see them enjoying one another's company, but how long would the truce last? He knew very little about Gary Breskin, aside from their common family connections. And—though the realization troubled him—it seemed that he no longer knew very much about his own son. The Simon he had left six months ago would never have threatened a playmate with a rock. Why had Simon done so today?

Perhaps, Spock reasoned, the boy had been seriously provoked. Spock knew what it was like to be tormented beyond all control. He vividly recalled the taunts from his own childhood that sometimes drove him to lash out, but when he looked at Gary's friendly face he saw no resemblance to those Vulcan boys.

"Simon," he said loudly enough to get his son's attention.

The boy gave a guilty start and looked over at him. "Yes, Father?"

"When you are finished there, find something for Gary to do, and come into my study."

Spock turned from him and went upstairs. He was seated at his desk examining the academy's final examination records when his son cracked open the door and stepped in.

"Over here," Spock said, beckoning him closer to the desk.

Simon obeyed. His eyes lit on the Moodstone beside the computer.

"It seems," Spock said, "that you and I have not gotten off to a very good start—have we?"

Simon stared at the floor and shook his head.

Spock picked up the Moodstone and placed it near the boy. It glowed briefly at his touch; a faint tinge of pink that faded to dull brown as Simon's glance flicked in its direction.

"This stone is not intended for use as a weapon," Spock said. "Explain to me, if you will, how it came to be raised over your cousin's head."

Simon drew a slow, unsteady breath. "Gary grabbed it. When I jumped on top of him, I saw everything he was thinking. It…made me want to hurt him. I don't know why." His eyes rose with a pleading look. "I want to be more like _you_."

Moved by the unexpected words, Spock said, "You are mostly human. From the beginning, your mother rightly insisted that you live in a human way…but even among humans, the free expression of emotions must be limited by self-control."

A sudden, discordant screech emanated from an upstairs bedroom—a bow drawn haphazardly over the strings of a violin. Simon's head jerked toward the noise, but not before Spock had noted the fierce flare of irritation on his son's face.

"Yet," Spock said, "you are not entirely human."

The violin gave forth another tortured sound.

Simon turned back to Spock with an anguished expression. "He won't leave my things alone! Father, make him!"

Spock regarded him closely. "You are not accustomed to sharing your belongings."

"He'll break it!" Simon cried.

"It can be repaired. Have you been practicing the mental exercises I taught you? Strengthening your barriers will reduce telepathic intrusion and leave you calmer."

"Sometimes," Simon said in a distracted tone.

"You must be vigilant at _all_ times," Spock explained, "or your mental barriers will weaken from lack of use. It is not unlike practicing the violin."

"But Gary—"

"Perhaps if you show Gary how to use the bow properly, he can do better. Perhaps there is even something he can teach you."

oooo

Burning with resentment, Simon snatched his violin from Gary's hands and shut it away in its case. Then he put it in the back of his closet and closed the door. When he turned around, Gary was looking at him, his pockets bulging with toys, his hands fidgeting nervously.

"Don't be mad," Gary said softly.

Simon scowled. "It's not only you." Flopping on his bed, he thought about his father making him stand there and listen to Gary wreck his violin, telling him to let Gary play with it, and maybe even learn things from the kid. What kind of things? Gary was so ordinary. _Ordinary Gary—_ it even rhymed.

Simon heard a baby start to cry downstairs. Soon they would both be squalling. What a rotten day.

Gary's hesitant voice broke into his thoughts. "Simon…Simon…can I look at this?"

Simon found his cousin pointing at a holo-viewer on a shelf. At least he was asking instead of grabbing. "Alright. Bring it here."

They sat together on the bed viewing pictures taken on Vulcan last year. Simon thought about how different things would be if his family lived on Vulcan. Like all seven-year-olds, he would be preparing for his manhood trial. He would prove himself in ways that no mere human boy could imagine. He would gain his father's respect once and for all.

As Simon gazed at the Vulcan scenes, his hand felt for one of his round, human ears—a gesture that had carried over from early childhood. He learned young that he was outwardly different from his father, but the blood was still there. It might not show on the surface where he would like it to be, but it showed in his mind—the way he would pick up on Gary's thoughts if he wasn't careful, just because their bodies were touching. Gary would never even know. Humans had no experience with telepathy and mental shielding. There were a lot of things humans couldn't do.

oooo

After a day of games and bickering, Simon stretched out beside Gary in the summer grass while the light dwindled from the sky.

Suddenly Gary said, "Hey, I have an idea! Let's camp out!"

Simon turned his head and looked at his cousin. "Camp out? Gary, there's the babies…and Father has some sort of conferences at the academy tomorrow morning."

Gary raised onto his grass-stained knees. "No, I mean right here in the backyard. All we need is some rope and a couple of blankets. I'll show you."

"You don't need to show me anything," Simon said crossly. "I know how to make a stupid tent."

Gary tagged along as Simon went inside to ask permission. Simon found his parents in the nursery discussing his little brother James in the low tones they always used when Simon was around.

Gary hung on the crib and gazed down at the sickly-looking baby boy. "Cousin Spock," he said, "I think it's nice that James has ears like you. How come his skin is so yellow? Because he's Vulcan?"

Father was unusually slow to answer. "No, Gary, it is because James is not well."

"Oh." Gary peered even more closely at James. "Will he get better?"

Simon saw an odd glance pass between his parents, and it made him so uneasy that he spoke up. "Of course he'll get better—just like Aunt Doris. Everyone does, sooner or later." Then he asked, "May we make a tent and sleep out in the backyard?"

Mom gave him a long, searching look and said, "I don't know—the way you two have been fighting…"

Simon's face went warm. Suddenly, camping out had become a matter of pride. He turned to his father. "Please? We won't fight anymore, I promise."

Spock studied their faces, then raised a slanted eyebrow. "At your age," he said dryly, "I survived the desert trial of kahs-wan. Surely a night in the yard will not harm you."

Gary gave a jump of excitement that made the toys in his pockets rattle. Tight-lipped, Simon stalked out the door. Of all the things for his father to say in front of Gary! But it was true. Camping out in the backyard _was_ silly—for babies!

Gary followed after him and kept nagging until the stupid tent was made.

Darkness came. Simon lay on his back by his cousin, gazing out an open end of the tent, at the stars. The sound of his parents' flutes drifted from an open window. Normally their music would entice him to play along with his violin, but he was not in the mood tonight.

Beside him, Gary stirred. "What's cow-swan?"

Startled, Simon looked over at him, but it was too dark to see Gary clearly. "Not cow-swan. Kahs-wan." And he spelled the words. "It's the manhood trial Vulcan boys undergo when they're seven."

Gary rolled over onto his belly. His pale eyes glimmered with curiosity. "A trial? You mean with lawyers and judges? My father is a lawyer."

Simon sighed. "No, not that kind. It's like a test…in the wilderness. You go out into the Vulcan desert, alone with dangerous animals and plants. If you come back alive, people respect you. If you get scared and run home, you're nothing but a worthless coward."

Gary was silent for a moment. Then in a hushed voice he said, "Did you do it when you were on Vulcan?"

Something inside Simon twisted up tight, tempting him to lie. "No," he finally admitted. "I wasn't old enough then—but I would have."

Gary laughed. "Oh, sure."

Simon's dark hair brushed the tent-blanket as he bolted upright. "It's the truth! My father did it, and so could I! In fact…in fact…I've been thinking about doing my own kahs-wan, right here on Earth."

And he really had been thinking of it—for maybe a split second. Though the idea had never occurred to him before, he already liked it. He remembered a story Grandmother Amanda had once told him. She said that when Father was seven he took off into the desert before the kahs-wan trial. He was so determined to prove himself, that he was nearly killed by a vicious Le-Matya. His pet sehlat died trying to save him from the attack.

Lying back, Simon put his hands under his head and tried to picture it. Sometime later he awoke in a cold sweat. His ears echoed with the scream of unseen terrors. His mind swam with strange, fearful images. Moonlit sand, a darkened beach, a jutting mountain as black and forbidding as any peak in the hills of Gol. Only this mountain did not rise from any desert. It was surrounded by water—a vast ocean of cold, churning water as challenging as anything Vulcan had to offer.

Thinking of it, Simon shivered. He had never been a very good swimmer, not like his big sister T'Beth. Just last summer he had watched as she swam out to the black crag in the ocean beyond their family's beach house. At the end, he had needed binoculars to see her clearly. He still remembered how he had agonized until she made it there safely, how he had suffered all over again as, stroke by stroke, she swam her way back to shore.

Afterward he had yelled at her for taking such a risk, but now Simon could think of no better trial of his own strength and courage. He could take Gary with him as a witness and swim out at the first light of dawn. It would be over before anyone even missed them. Then he would call home and tell his father that he had met his own kahs-wan, and survived.

Simon's heart pounded with excitement as he reached down and shook his cousin awake.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

From the very beginning, Gary had thought Simon was strange, but there was never a moment when he hadn't secretly admired him. After all, Simon was smart— _really_ smart. He gave public performances with his violin, at school he was doing mostly advanced work, and he had even been accepted into Little League with the older kids. Simon's whole family was different. It wasn't something that Gary's parents talked much about, but when they did, they used a funny kind of tone that made Gary sit up and take notice. It had all started when his Great-Aunt Amanda married a Vulcan named Sarek. And now here he was, flying through the dark in a shuttlebus, not at all sure this was a smart idea, even if Simon _had_ thought of it and even knew how to pay their fare using his mom's credit account.

As the bus soared down the coast, he leaned over and whispered into his cousin's round, human ear. "We'll never get back in time. Your father will catch us."

"He's _supposed_ to find out," Simon said, much to Gary's dismay. "That's the whole point. That's why I'm bringing you along. You can tell him that you saw me do it."

 _"_ _Me?"_ Gary went cold with fear. "No, Simon! He'll be mad!"

"He's a Vulcan, remember? He won't shout or anything."

"But he's only half-Vulcan…"

Even Simon looked worried as he said, "Well…he'll only be mad at me…and not for long, once I explain."

The last star had faded when the shuttle glided to their stop. Simon coaxed Gary off and they trotted along a side road that wound sharply downward. Gary's nose crinkled at the smell of saltwater and seaweed. The road curved sharply again, and a gray expanse of ocean came into view.

Gary stopped to catch his breath. "Wait up!" he panted, and Simon slowed to a stop.

The ocean was so close that Gary could hear waves hitting the beach. Miles and miles and miles of it, and off in the misty distance, Simon's jutting black rock. A damp gust of wind sliced through Gary's jacket. He shook with a sudden chill.

"It's too cold," he complained. "Let's go back."

Simon looked him hard in the eyes. "It's not like I'm asking _you_ to go out there. Or are you too scared even to watch?"

When Simon turned and ran down the road, Gary reluctantly followed.

oooo

Lauren awoke suddenly, rose up in bed, and stared at the faint wash of light at the windows. Her movement roused Spock.

"What is it?" he asked.

If only she knew—but these terrible forebodings that came over her never had a name. Always, she was left guessing…and worrying.

Rising, she threw on her robe and said, "I'll check on the babies, you check on the boys."

She tried to tell herself that she was making a big fuss over nothing, but she moved with such urgency that she had already come and gone from the upstairs nursery before Spock reached the stairs. They descended together and went through the screened porch, into the backyard. In slipper-clad feet they walked over the damp grass to the boys' makeshift tent.

The tent was empty.

A panicky surge of adrenaline ripped its way through Lauren's veins. "They're gone!"

Spock's hand touched her arm. Turning, she looked into his dark Vulcan eyes, so impossibly steady and calm.

"Lauren," he said gently, "I suspect we will find them upstairs, fast asleep."

 _Of course!_ She went limp with relief. Feeling decidedly foolish, she followed her sensible husband back inside.

oooo

Simon had no trouble getting into the beach house. His family kept one of the antique keys hidden outside. After fetching the binoculars for Gary, he went and stood barefoot at the surf's edge.

"I don't think this is a very good idea," Gary complained.

"Be quiet," Simon said. He needed to concentrate. He needed to think hard on his goal or the fear would take over completely.

Stripping down to his underwear, he fixed his eyes on the black finger of rock beckoning to him from the ocean mist. Chill bumps stood out on his bare flesh as he squished his toes into the wet sand. There were things living down there—crabs, mollusks, worms. Out in the water there were things even worse than that. Not even T'Beth knew how much the thought of those things scared him; why he had never worked very hard at swimming; why no one could coax him very far from shore.

Whales. They were huge. Simon knew all about how his father helped return the humpbacks to Earth in a Klingon Bird-of-Prey. At least _they_ didn't eat people, but sharks did—and there were plenty of those around. Sharks and eels and manta rays. He once found a dead manta ray washed up on this very beach. He had gotten a close look at its weird, winged body and stinging tail.

"Don't do it," Gary pleaded. "You'll drown."

Simon focused on the cold, choppy waves and wondered what it would be like to suck water into his lungs and sink under the surface, knowing he was going to die.

" _Please,"_ Gary begged.

Simon's heart hammered. He was shivering hard, but he told himself, _I can't turn back now. Gary would tell Father why I came. Spock would know that I failed my kahs-wan, that I'm nothing but a coward._

Steeling himself, he ran forward and plunged into the surf. At the first shock of cold water, he cried out. The swells tossed him back toward shore, but he began to swim, remembering everything his family had taught him. Cupping his hands, he reached and pulled and kicked his way through the churning ocean.

Suddenly a powerful current gripped his body. He bobbed, sputtering, as the undertow swept him away from the beach. Glancing back, he saw Gary's small, frightened face. Simon choked on a salty mouthful of water and almost screamed for help. Then a wave turned him and the distant crag came back into view. He swam on.

oooo

The phone scarcely let out a ring before Lauren answered it. She had been pacing nearby, waiting for an update from Spock, who was out searching the neighborhood in his skimmer.

The screen lit with the image of a young, very frightened-looking boy. Relief mingled with dread as she cried out, "Gary! Where are you? Where's Simon?"

Big tears rolled from the boy's eyes. "You have to help him! He's out in the water! Maybe he drowned—I don't know—it got all foggy!"

The breath froze in Lauren's lungs.

"Hurry," sobbed Gary, "you gotta hurry!"

oooo

Simon had not expected the fog. One minute the rock was there, the next minute it vanished in a creepy white blanket. He tried to remember where it had been, and keep on swimming. There was nothing else he could do. He felt the cold eating away at his strength and knew there was not much time left. His arms and legs ached from battling the waves. Something brushed against his thigh and he felt a sharp, stinging sensation.

A large swell broke over his face. As he floundered, choking, words flashed into his mind… _Simon Spock S'chn T'gai, seven-year-old son of Starfleet's Captain Spock, and grandson of Ambassador Sarek of Vulcan, drowned early today in the Pacific Ocean…_

Simon caught his breath and fought the encroaching exhaustion. Kick, stroke, kick, stroke, kick, stroke. After a while he heard a slapping sound, like waves hitting something solid, and aimed his feeble efforts toward it. A dark shape took form in the mist. Eddying currents caught his body, thrust him forward. A powerful wave drove him into sharp, barnacle-encrusted rock, then sucked him back and threw him forward again. Scraped and bleeding, he scrabbled for a handhold, but his fingers were numb.

On the third attempt he found a grip. The fierce backwash tried to rip him away, but somehow he held on. A wave slammed him hard against a little ledge, and he dragged himself out of the water. With the last of his strength he crawled a little higher. Then curling into a shivering ball, he emptied his stomach of salt water.

oooo

Using an insubstantial form of inductive reasoning, Spock had flown out of San Francisco. His earlier application of a purer logic had failed to uncover the missing boys. Hardly surprising, considering that seven-year-old humans were not very logical creatures.

Once more, he referred to memories of his own boyhood. Even among Vulcan youngsters, the lure of adventure could be quite strong. And for a desert boy like Spock, nothing this side of Space had held more of a lure than Vulcan's Greater Sea, which he occasionally visited with his parents. Approximately the size of Earth's Lake Superior, the sea was large enough to generate tides and even a respectable surf when the wind was up. But it was a mere puddle beside the massive ocean here on the Pacific Coast. Was it possible that Simon and Gary had set off on their own seaside adventure?

Unlike Lauren, Spock was not unduly alarmed. Even if Simon had taken his cousin to the beach house, the boy had a healthy respect for ocean water. They were probably preparing to toast marshmallows from the bag Lauren kept in the pantry.

A flash of a dash light and a concurrent tone signaled an incoming transmission. Ordering the channel open, he said, "Spock here."

The voice that broke from the speaker was so breathless with emotion that he barely recognized it as his wife's.

"Gary called from the beach house! Simon's out in the water—swimming for the crag! Spock, you have to find him!"

Spock stared at the com's speaker as a horrible feeling crawled through his insides. Fear, dread, panic—all that and more, defying any mere human or Vulcan attempt at control. There were times, it seemed, when logic was doomed to fail completely.

"Spock!" Lauren shouted into the silence. "Spock, do you hear me?"

He became aware of his hand pushing the skimmer's throttle wide open. Running his tongue over lips gone dry, he forced his voice steady. "Yes, Lauren, I heard. And as it happens, I am quite near the area. Have you called for help?"

Lauren's voice burst back at him. "Yes, of course, I called! How can you sound so calm? Don't you understand? Simon could be drowning!"

"I do understand," Spock said simply, then signed off.

There was no time to concern himself with his wife's anger, or the upheaval of emotion still churning in his own gut. A coastal fogbank loomed up ahead. A moment later visibility dropped to near zero. Moisture sheeted over the windshield as he streaked through the fog, relying solely on the skimmer's guidance system. He reached the beach house coordinates and caught a ghostly glimpse of the rooftop rushing by.

Spock's hands clenched over the controls as he slowed the skimmer. Its small sensor array showed no other vehicles in the air. Search and Rescue had not yet arrived.

Fixing his instruments on the crag, he skimmed toward it, scanning the ocean for any sign of his son's readings. The first sweep revealed nothing, so he circled back and tried again. This time he curved out past the formation and as he did so, a sensor flared.

Relieved, Spock flew the little airship in a slow arc and confirmed that the readings belonged to a small chilled humanoid, and that the humanoid was out of the water.

He briefly considered waiting for the rescue workers, but at any moment a rogue wave could dash Simon back into the ocean. The decision made, Spock quickly relayed Simon's position to Lauren before removing his shoes and coat. Reaching into a compartment under his seat, he brought out a pair of life belts and strapped them both on. Then he moved the skimmer as near as possible to Simon's position and carefully lowered it over the seething waves. After damaging the skimmer landing carriage a few years earlier, he had replaced it with flotation skids—a sensible precaution, in view of the fact that he often commuted across San Francisco Bay. Now the skids would enable him to land right on the water.

The skimmer settled into the ocean and began to toss. Spock activated the station-keeping buffers. Then opening the door, he plunged into the frigid sea.

oooo

Simon had finally stopped shivering. He no longer felt the painful cold. Even the sting on his leg had stopped hurting. Half-naked and drowsy, he lay curled in a pocket of stone that offered some protection from the wind. A while ago he thought he had heard the distant hum of an engine. He thought he had seen lights moving in the fog. Too weak to call out, he had closed his eyes and let his mind drift. Now all he heard was the lonesome moaning of a foghorn out on the Point. It made him feel like going to sleep.

Suddenly, something touched him on the shoulder—something so very warm and startling that he gasped and opened his eyes.

"Simon!" a voice beckoned—rough and urgent, but somehow familiar.

… _Father?_

"Simon," it came again.

Simon managed to turn his head and found his father crouched close by, soaking wet. Scarcely believing his eyes, he watched as Spock undid one of the flotation belts at his waist and strapped it around him. Then the warmth and security of his father's arms enveloped him, and he knew this was really happening.

oooo

His son would live. Spock no longer had any doubt of that. Having been treated for hypothermia, abrasions, and a jellyfish sting, Simon was transferred from a Carmel emergency department to the pediatric ward where he would remain under observation for the next 24 hours.

Spock stood at his son's bedside. Dressed in borrowed scrubs and draped in a hospital blanket, he had almost shaken off the chill of the water and his own fear. Gary was back in San Francisco, safe with the family babysitter who was also caring for the twins. Lauren had arrived only moments ago.

A stray shiver caught him as he watched his wife hold Simon's hand and speak to the boy tenderly. No doubt Simon did need some reassuring, but now that the emergency was over, Spock was not inclined to be so gentle.

Simon must have sensed the stern direction of his thoughts. Sudden tears welled in the boy's eyes and his lower lip began to quiver. Plaintively he said, "Father, I'm sorry…"

"And rightfully so," Spock declared. "We will discuss the matter at home, tomorrow."

Simon let out such a sob that Lauren gave Spock a reproachful look and bent to comfort the boy. "It's alright, honey. Gary told us what you were trying to do. I'm sure your father will understand."

At that, Spock escorted her from the room and found a vacant waiting area in which to speak privately. "Lauren," he reasoned with her, "our son's incautious act not only put his own life at risk, but Gary's as well. There is a saying among Vulcans. 'A garden left untended will go to sand'. In our relief to have Simon back, it would be tempting to make excuses for his behavior…but he must be held accountable."

Lauren's eyes flashed. "What are you saying? That I didn't 'tend' him properly while you were gone? That I've been pampering him too much? Or maybe even neglecting him?" She paused to draw an angry breath. "Spock, you're the one who wasn't around for six months. You're the one who let them sleep out in the backyard, unsupervised."

Spock suppressed a sigh. It was, he reminded himself, only human of Lauren to misconstrue his words, but even so he found her behavior trying. "You misunderstand," he told her. "I am not blaming you for what happened today—nor will I accept any blame. Simon knows what is expected of him, yet he deliberately chose another path; therefore he is the one who must answer for it. That is all I meant by the axiom."

Lauren closed her eyes tiredly and rubbed the back of her neck as if it pained her. "I know, I know," she said, her face pallid from the morning's strain. "When I think of what might have happened…" Her voice trailed off and she put her arms around him. Resting her head on his shoulder, she said, "Thank God you were here. I've missed you so much—we both have. Maybe that's what Simon's been trying to tell you."

oooo

Simon was very quiet on the trip home. He knew what was coming, and thinking of it made his stomach churn as if it was still full of seawater. They were flying into San Francisco when he finally worked up the nerve to ask, "Is Gary still there?"

"Yes," Mom answered. "He's helping Auntie Sakata take care of the twins."

 _Oh great,_ Simon thought, scrunching himself low in the skimmer's rear seat. He studied the back of his father's head and watched those strong Vulcan hands working the dash controls. This time he would get walloped for sure, and he did not want his cousin around when it happened.

All too soon the skimmer landed at their home. Spock powered down the engine, then turned to look at him.

"Simon," he said in a stern voice.

Simon gripped the armrests, his heart pounding. "Yes, Father?"

"I mentioned the kahs-wan when you asked to camp out. Is that what started you thinking about it?"

Simon swallowed hard and nodded. "I remembered what Grandmother Amanda said to me—about how you wanted to prove yourself and went into the desert early. You didn't tell anyone, either. You just did it."

A glance passed between his parents. Then Father looked straight at him. "Simon, I was not unprepared. My father had trained me for the ordeal, but even so, what I did was wrong and I was rightfully punished."

Simon was close to tears. "I didn't mean to worry anybody. I…I just wanted to show you that I'm not a coward, that I don't always run away from things that scare me. And…and I'm not spoiled, either."

Father's eyes narrowed. "You nearly showed me a dead son. You endangered your cousin, as well."

Ashamed, Simon hung his head.

Father was silent for a moment. Then, very predictably, he said, "Go inside and wait in my study."

Hot tears spilled down Simon's face as he left the skimmer and slowly made his way into the house. Auntie Sakata heard him and came out of the downstairs nursery with Gary at her side.

"Simon!" Gary said with a catch in his voice.

"Leave him be," Auntie told Gary.

Simon ran upstairs…and straight into the haven of his own room. Shutting the door, he leaned his hands against it, pushing hard with his whole weight. After a couple of minutes he heard Father walk along the hallway and enter the study.

Simon tried to keep pushing, but his arms were tired and sore from yesterday's swim. Giving up, he put his ear to the door and listened. The house was very quiet. Why hadn't Father come after him?

The answer seemed painfully simple. Proper Vulcan children never ran away from punishment; they faced up to it. Simon recalled what he had just said to his father—that he wasn't a coward and he didn't always run away from things that scared him. That was what he had set out to prove with his own private kahs-wan. And he _had_ jumped into the ocean, hadn't he? And faced his fears and swam all the way to the crag.

He remembered, too, how Spock had found him in the fog and swam with him to the skimmer and wrapped him in the warmth of his big coat. He remembered how gently Father talked to him all the way to the hospital, letting him know that everything would be alright.

"I love you," Simon had told him through frozen lips, but Spock had not said "I love you, too" _,_ like Mom. Always, Simon was left wondering.

Remembering all this, Simon stood away from the door. Quietly he cracked it open and found the hallway empty. _Was Spock still in his study, waiting?_ Tendrils of fear sidled through his stomach. He hated the sensation, the way it made his legs feel like running, the way it made his hands get so sweaty that he had to wipe them on his pants. The feeling was almost worse than any punishment.

Was that why Vulcan children faced up to it? To get rid of this awful sensation? To get the punishment over quickly? Do it fast—maybe that was the trick.

Taking a deep breath, Simon strode to the door of his father's study and touched his hand to the knob. He counted to three, then flung the door open and stepped inside.

Father's chair had been turned away from the desk, toward the windows behind it. Now he swiveled to face Simon, and his dark eyes struck deep into the boy's heart.

"There you are," Father said. "Come, Simon. Over here, by me."

Fresh tears pricked Simon's eyes and made his throat ache. "I'm sorry. I'll never do it again, I mean it."

Father waited for him in silence.

His heart drumming wildly, Simon inched forward until he stood within his father's reach. Spock's hands closed on his arms and drew him closer. To Simon's confusion, he gently sat him atop the desk.

"You wanted to prove to me that you have courage," Father said, looking up at him, "and just now, you did."

Simon wiped at his tears. His father no longer seemed quite so forbidding.

"I only asked that you come into the study. I did not say why, did I?"

Simon let out his breath in relief. "You mean…you're not…"

"I have never struck you and I never will." Spock's eyes were grave. "Simon, listen to me. The real test of a man's spirit does not take place in a desert wilderness, or in ocean water, but here." He touched Simon's forehead and the place over his heart. "Do you understand?"

Simon nodded.

"Qualities like honesty, integrity, and generosity are as much a measure of Vulcan manhood as the kahs-wan."

"But no one cares about me, anymore!" Simon blurted. The instant the words left his mouth, he regretted them. Complaining only make him sound weak. Something had gone wrong between him and his father, and even if he didn't fully understand why, he knew exactly where the trouble had come from. Even now Simon heard them downstairs, starting to wail. The twins. Teresa, the perfect little girl-child. And James, the baby with Uncle Jim's name, the son with the cute Vulcan ears, the sick one that everyone was always fussing over.

Simon heard his father sigh and cringed inside. It took a lot to make a Vulcan sigh. Father's eyes were still on him, but now they seemed more kind than accusing.

Spock said, "I can understand how you might sometimes feel a bit neglected. There have been a great many changes in our family."

Simon felt some of his tension ease. "I like the way things used to be…"

"Before Teresa and James were born? Before T'Beth moved away from Earth?"

Simon nodded, a big lump in his throat. "You went away, too."

"Simon." Father's voice was very tender. "You know I did not plan to be away so long."

This time Simon had no trouble believing him. As their eyes held, his father reached out with an index finger and traced the path of a tear. Thick nails or not, it felt good when Spock touched his face and they shared this special sort of communication. Simon's heart swelled with love as their minds brushed.

"Simon-ka." Father spoke softly, adding the Vulcan suffix that meant "little". "Go now, and think well before you act."

oooo

The June sun beat down on Simon as he silently helped his cousin dismantle the saggy backyard tent. He was winding up the rope when Gary spoke in a hesitant voice.

"So…did you get it?"

Simon pretended not to understand. "Get what?"

Gary glanced downward and dug the toe of his shoe into the grass. "My father says that Vulcans beat their children with whips. That's why they're so well-behaved." His gaze settled on Simon. "I didn't hear you hollering any."

Simon stood very straight and tried to imitate his father. "Vulcan children do not 'holler'."

"Oh," Gary said, wide-eyed.

"What did he do to _you?"_ Simon wondered. "After all, you left the yard, too. You went to the beach."

Gary shrugged and picked up a blanket. "He thanked me for calling your mother. He said it proved that I'm basically sensible, but that…that I should never have taken off in the first place."

"So," Simon said in his most condescending Vulcan manner, "all he did was talk." He made it sound as if a beating were a badge of honor. "Well, you're not his son…are you?"

Clutching the blanket in his arms, Gary looked at Simon with a most satisfying hint of envy.


End file.
